I have been reading. Reading quite a lot these days.Reading anything that has text on it.
Reading jerks you back to your senses, wrests emotions that were lurking all along, stultified into oblivion in that cobwebby part of your mind. Emotions that you had no idea, existed comes tumbling forth in the wake of such impassioned, frenzied perusal and weaves itself into eloquent reasoning or at least that is what one would like to believe it is.
In this welter of mind numbing logic and oddly misplaced burst of intellectualism, it is difficult to winnow out specious reasoning, waxing eloquent under a rich fabric of sophistry.It is perfectly natural to start housing beliefs that are in reality baseless and convoluted.How does one guarantee the moral veracity of what one is reading?
Some writers are inherently dogmatic.He will rest only when his writing is singled out for Nature's greatest approbation.Till the time it happens, he is wont to polemical contentions, all adorned in artistic brilliance.He will vehemently continue endorsing his beliefs, his muscles taut under the wake of frenzied writing, till he finds the necessary acceptance.
I realize i am catering to a very parochial idea of authorship here.
And of course there are people like me who shall hungrily lap it all up and after having whetted her appetite to the point of satiation, would instinctively discard it all for other banal things.
I have not experienced such a degree of emotional involvement with text in a long time. This is a good feeling. Such is Life.
Reading jerks you back to your senses, wrests emotions that were lurking all along, stultified into oblivion in that cobwebby part of your mind. Emotions that you had no idea, existed comes tumbling forth in the wake of such impassioned, frenzied perusal and weaves itself into eloquent reasoning or at least that is what one would like to believe it is.
In this welter of mind numbing logic and oddly misplaced burst of intellectualism, it is difficult to winnow out specious reasoning, waxing eloquent under a rich fabric of sophistry.It is perfectly natural to start housing beliefs that are in reality baseless and convoluted.How does one guarantee the moral veracity of what one is reading?
Some writers are inherently dogmatic.He will rest only when his writing is singled out for Nature's greatest approbation.Till the time it happens, he is wont to polemical contentions, all adorned in artistic brilliance.He will vehemently continue endorsing his beliefs, his muscles taut under the wake of frenzied writing, till he finds the necessary acceptance.
I realize i am catering to a very parochial idea of authorship here.
And of course there are people like me who shall hungrily lap it all up and after having whetted her appetite to the point of satiation, would instinctively discard it all for other banal things.
I have not experienced such a degree of emotional involvement with text in a long time. This is a good feeling. Such is Life.
